love lost…heart formed

to say i was a lonely & strange child…i was a misfit…watching the world around me & not understanding. not at all.
then, i don’t remember when, i met a girl who i understood & who seemed to understand me & it didn’t matter what the world thought of us because we had each other & could be perfectly odd together.
then we turned sixteen.
& i became weirder while she embraced the popular….
my first…big…damaging…shattering even…heartbreak.
& i stayed on the fringe.
i felt safe on the fringe.
barely knowing people. not letting them see me.
until one day
when i was twenty-two
i met a boy
& we became fast friends & then we became more & it felt all meant to be–he seemed to really see me–but i hesitated & it ended in terrible betrayal
i stayed me…he became someone else…someone i know longer knew & i wondered if i ever really knew him…& my world fell apart all over again….
i wonder…
but i don’t believe
& here i live
lonely ever after….

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not alone

i thought it was
you & me
against the world
but
i was all alone
the whole
time
i was all alone

i have a key around my neck with the words “not alone” engraved on one side and a heart engraved on the other side. it was made by a woman who suffers from anxiety to remind us that even when we feel alone, we are not.

i am not alone.

i mean i know that when i hear a song on the radio and wonder how the artist got a hold of my journal. even a poem i wrote last week reminded someone of the lyrics of a tool song. he sent the lyrics to me, and i was blown away by how much the writer of the song was feeling what i felt–and also by how much better he expressed it.

sometimes i feel very, very alone though.
sometimes it is hard to remember that i am not.
i have to remind myself & convince myself that i have a tribe out there that i have never met. (i have seen the blind melon video so i know that it must be true–right?)

i wrote the above poem for dusty. he cannot seem to grasp how much he hurt me. he won’t stop with the words that are ten years too late. he threw me away for other women and broke parts of me that i did not realize hadn’t already been broken. and now he just wants everything to be magically okay. so i have nightmares all night long. living with dusty in my dreams. trying to thaw his coldness. one dream had three men break into our place. i was trying to save the minions; dusty disappeared. the dream ended just before i was going to be raped. that sums it up. i don’t feel safe with him. i don’t feel like a priority. i feel like he is never on my side. that he does not have my back…not at all.

and that is what i need. i need someone i can count on.

not dusty.

so right now, i am alone…but not for always.

let’s play

again, looking for love in all the blog places, i plugged in the search word “homesteading” (when i searched “sheep” i just found a bunch of political posts–ha!) and was delighted to find a blog post titled “homesteading artist” only to realize it was one of my own posts.

the problem is:
1. i find me fascinating most of the time and want someone kind of like me (less anxiety; less depression; less control issues.)
2. i am a complicated person–an oxymoronic person–despite my desire to be simple and to make sense, and it is difficult to find another who might overlap in a complimentary way.
3. relationships terrify me.

for those of you saying to yourself, “didn’t she just break up with exhusband#2?”
the truth is that i left him a year ago new year’s day, and then HE decided HE wanted to work things out. i never decided that and remained in a state of limbo until shortly after we moved here–july-ish? where i finally said, “no, i don’t want to be with you.” and had him move out of my bedroom, ceasing all physical relationship with him as that was our only actual relationship qualifier since…what? before poppy was conceived? also. i divorced him in 2010.

so!
depending on how you look at it, we have been broken up for between 5 months and 6 years. i feel as if we have been broken up for at least a year. probably more. the day i went to court and sat in that courtroom all by myself, wondering what would become of me…to me, that is the day our relationship was over because that was the day i realized he will never be the man i need him to be. that was fall of 2015.

long story short. i am over him and long for a relationship with a person who is capable of caring about me and for me.

so it’s not too soon for me to be looking for the next ex (haha–please let that be a joke)…in fact, i am overdue for a good relationship.
i have done my time.
show me the nice guys!

letsplay1

this is the ink stain i started today’s doodle with.
if you ever read my moses jones story, you might suspect i am partial to black and white…to shades of gray. i am.
color is nice, but somehow i find i enjoy the ones without color a bit more. they make me less anxious?

the river

yesterday
i was so weirded out by the dragons in my picture
that i never stopped to wonder what a person might think
of my skull wearing fire goddess.
which then i obsessed about for awhile
wondering if i would be labeled too dark
too witchy
mostly thinking of how my younger sister would see it
my conservative republican trump-voting highly delusional little sister.

then i thought
you know
if i had a horned skull and a feather tutu
i would totally wear that.
so it must not be weird,
right?

ha!

then i was fine with it.

and today i have another goddess portrait
a river goddess
wearing welding goggles
because, you know, to keep water out of her eyes.

so tomorrow i go fetch my minions back
the end to my alone time…
and i won’t get a picture done tomorrow…maybe the next day?

so tomorrow i see dusty
very briefly
which is how i prefer it.
i haven’t missed him at all.
i can just pretend he is still sitting at his laptop playing video games
or getting high in the garage.
not much different with him gone.

and i finally read my tarot cards today.
i have been avoiding them ever since they yelled at me about not
taking my art seriously.
today they told me
(abridged)
“keep on keeping on–& don’t fuck it up.”

so that’s my game plan.
steady as she goes…watch out for sink holes & water falls.

and here is my ink stain. i could see a face and knew it was a portrait of someone wearing goggles. i fleshed her out. then i found the river.

inkstainriver

ranting wailing mourning

why am i so pissed off again?
already?
okay, so i’m not going to be magically
okay
so i’m not going to be magically
together
i’m going to be bitter & angry
shouting
screaming
crying
wishing things had been different
careful i am not wishing my children away
as i wish i had never met their father.

and
it’s fucking thanksgiving
i don’t know about you
but this was the most dysfunctional
of fucked up dysfunctional holidays
for me
i spent years avoiding
this
fucking
“holiday.”
for years, i couldn’t even eat turkey
without feeling angry
fucking thanksgiving
the holiday of family fights
based on a false
gathering
as white invaders who
murdered & stole from indigenous peoples
after being welcomed into their land
it’s a fucking
cursed
holiday.

fuck thanksgiving.
fuck my ex-husband.
fuck my parents.
fuck black friday
and the mentality of buying buying buying
hoarding goods
made by abused workers
in other countries
as a cloud of pollution forms
over their heads
fuck this fucking country and its killing ways
its stealing ways
its hurtful
hateful
ways.
this whole land
is cursed.